


purgatory.

by Theia_hp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:12:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theia_hp/pseuds/Theia_hp
Summary: What was a broken shell of a man to do when love had abandoned him... had left him for dead?A Severus Snape ficFor Margaret's Angst Alone Challenge on hpft





	purgatory.

*

If a thunderstorm could live within a human body, this is what it would feel like. A swirling dark cloud held together by condensed grief and a slow-burning rage that threatened to consume, consume, and keep consuming until there was nothing left. The particles that held together his degrading body crumbling ever so slowly and painfully, trickling down into a deep hole of oblivion. A fierce flame spreading through his arms as the enhanced potion known to none other clashed with the icy spear of despair, fingers trembling as blackening nerves cried out for absolution, for reprieve from this nightmare that would never cease. A purgatory that seemed destined for him - one that was so rare, it was mostly deemed a myth.

This is what dying from a broken heart felt like.

There was a time when he’d pretended as though he could be redeemed, that the bitterness that coursed through his blood could be cleansed, that the dark urges that overcame him could be shoved aside and clamped down. But the truth was, he revelled in it. It was a pulse of power that built up in him, a haunted desire to go beyond the mere ordinary, a starving mind that immersed itself in the search of knowledge, boundaries between light and dark that were more often blurred than not. Now, it was all he had left.

Maybe it was destined for him, ever since he was born. Hearing abuses hurled around the house as the stench of alcohol filled his senses as a child, the cries of a desperate mother pleading as she stood in the way of her husband and her child, left in hunger for days on end as he yearned for his mother to come out from behind the closed doors again - the unending magic caused his magic to finally lash out. It enveloped him in comfort, recognition, an otherworldly energy spreading through his body, a darkness that finally made him feel like things could be different as he directed his fury at the man who’d ruined it all. But the glorious haze faded, reality once more bared its claws, and he would no longer see his mother again.

 _She_ \-- the one whose very name would now cause his veins to burst open with pain -- she was the only reason he'd been able to hold himself together. It felt like a whole other lifetime now. A ghost of a past filled with whimsical walks in open fields, swinging fast and high from the bare boughs of the largest oak tree, the ripple of sunlight against luscious red locks, flickers of happiness, of carefree quests in the library, hushed whispers about the theory of magic, the science behind potion making, the craft of seamlessly transitioning from one spell to another, the subtle art of runic magic… A dream filled with laughter, acceptance, without any judgement, not even when the side he usually kept hidden came brimming to the surface. He had pushed her away, and was left with the broken pieces of his heart in her wake.

He no longer deluded himself into thinking he was worthy of love.

The strongest and wisest of magicals believed that love was the most powerful force in the universe. Hell, the Department of Mysteries had a gigantic room dedicated to its research and still hadn’t been able to unravel any of its secrets. The boy meant to be the saviour of the world supposedly had this force on his side. What was he, a broken shell of a man, to do when love had abandoned him… had left him for dead?

With a potion of his own concoction to soothe his blood and contain the spillage of his magic, supplemented by the most powerful Occlumency shields he could muster, he had a few more years left to spare. Five, at the most. Five years within which he swore to keep the promises he had made, the only things that kept him going, a shell of the man he once was. Soon, and there was no question of whether or not it would come to be, his blood would start to coagulate, his brain waves would begin to slow down, his magical reserves being the only thing keeping his body intact until they dried up and everything stopped. His heart would be the first to give up, and his bodily functions, soon to follow. The long, thin fingers that could handle the most delicate of substances, the eyes that could identify even the smallest of measurements, the hooked nose that could distinguish between subtle scents that drew a fine line between safety and danger… He couldn’t let himself think about that. He had to focus. He had promises to keep.

He stoppered the small glass bottle containing the murky white liquid that was keeping him alive and shuffled towards the glass cabinet containing all his stocks and ingredients. Pressing the tip of his finger to a groove on the side, he muttered a single word, a password known only to him, revealing his hidden stores of the potion neatly stacked in rows, each bottle displaying the same name - Death’s Boon. His heart clenched as he muttered the password again to lock the hidden compartment, spasms of pain travelling through his chest, and he fell to the ground with a tortured smile. It was a penance he had to pay, a price he deemed was rightfully due - If he took the liberty of hiding his stores using the enchantment she had created, it was only right that her name should be the password. Lily Evans. It was only right that he embraced the pain that would come along with saying her name out loud. Lily Evans. After all, it was entirely his fault that her light was extinguished. _Lily Evans._

Severus Snape did not hide from his sins.

Not that he had a choice. Her eyes followed him long after she was six feet under, her vibrant, stunning, emerald green eyes that had a striking appearance like none other, layers upon layers of expression in their depths, narrowed in accusation, wide in shock, flashes of emotion, hurt, dismay, astonishment, fear, worry, anger, accusation, accusation, accusation. _We were supposed to be friends._

It was all he could do to keep his emotions in check. To stop his throat from getting clogged up and his eyes from prickling and his knees from buckling. To go on with his monotonous routine and keep his mask in place even as it threatened to slip, to cause him to fall on the ground, to yearn for those merciless eyes to show him mercy that he did not deserve, to weep and scream and beg and beg and beg. It was hatred that kept him from doing so. Hatred directed at himself, his weakness, his inability to save her, the one person who had kept him whole, the one thread that kept him from falling off the edge.

Her eyes haunted him everyday, set in a face that wasn’t hers. That could never be hers.

It was easier when he shut everything out. All the memories, all his feelings, locked away behind an impregnable fort of dark magic that cordoned away a section of his mind. Tendrils of power that kept him from losing control, no emotions to deter him from following his routine, giving into the only part of him that could maintain the persona that helped him survive this long. It was easier to let the wave of anger muffle the depths of sorrow, to let the distant, warmth get enveloped by the memories of taunts and spiteful laughter, to direct that same spite back at the wretched face her eyes were nestled in… it was the only way. The only way to survive long enough to fulfil his duty.

He straightened up and smoothened out his robes, meticulously siphoning off the patches of dust on them, and regained his composure just as he felt the Dark Mark on his arm begin to burn. With a rueful smile at the impeccable timing of the summons, Severus Snape set his mind shields firmly in place, enveloped himself with his tainted magic, and apparated away to face whatever the fates had in store for him.

*


End file.
